


OC Stories

by Fandomanon



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:59:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4955953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandomanon/pseuds/Fandomanon





	1. Plant

It started with a houseplant. It had been a gift from Devin's mother, after she stopped by their apartment to check in on them, to make sure they weren't becoming a hermit. Of course, when they pointed out that they _couldn't_ become a hermit, their mother scoffed and changed the subject. Those were just things mothers worried over, even if it was silly, they supposed.

            Their mother, when she first saw the blank walls and sparse decor of their apartment, shook her head before running her hand across the not-quite clean kitchen counter.

            "Devin, you've been living here for a few months now, why haven't you decorated yet? And don't say you've been busy, I know your schedule young lady—"

            Devin grimaced at their mother, who paused, as if thinking over what she had said, before backpedalling quickly, "I'm sorry— I really am trying you know, and I do know that you're not a girl— it's just easy to forget, sometimes."

            They nodded, to acknowledge the apology, and their mother smiled at them, drumming her fingers against the counter, "still— you need to decorate this place, it reminds me of a hospital."

            Devin didn't hide their smirk at that, "I thought you'd like it, to be honest? You were _always_ nagging me to clean up my room when I was younger. But now that I have a place of my own, and it's clean, you're telling me to make it messier?"

            Their mother huffed, taking a step away from the counter to move towards Devin, leaning up to tug on one of their stray curls teasingly, as Devin ducks their head obligingly, hiding their smile, "God knows that's the _opposite_ of what I want— and there's a big difference between decorating, and how you used to literally leave chaos in your wake. Lord only knows how you managed to leave your room every morning without slipping and breaking your neck when you were younger—" she broke off to laugh, shaking her head and letting Devin's curl go, "and look what you've done, you've got me started again!"

            Devin finally smiled at her, darting their hands out to pull their mother into a quick hug. After a moment their mother broke the hug, looking around the apartment again. "At any rate, you need something— a painting here, a plant there— even a _pet_ would help, anything to get rid of the sterile look you have going on now."

            They don't bother fighting her on it; just try to tempt her out of the apartment and to dinner, because if anything will get her mind off of scolding them it's a meal she doesn't have to make.

            And that would be the end of it, but they had forgot to factor in how _stubborn_ their mother could be sometimes, which is why there was a potted plant sitting in front of their door when they got home from work. The sight of it made them laugh, and after they opened the door they picked it up to carry in, setting it in a place they knew received sunlight, before peeking at the label on it:

            _Oxalis triangularis_ , the label read in their mother's handwriting, _I know how much you like purple, and I thought it would brighten up your apartment_ _—_ _just put it near the window and you're set_.

            They checked its soil, to see if it had been watered recently, before they wandered off to call their mother and thank her, thinking that it's the last they'll hear of it, since their mother would consider the job done.

            They never did get around to decorating their apartment, but tended to the plant so it was blooming, and when their friends came over Devin always made a joke about the plant, and didn't explain the reason why they had it. Of course, Lynn figured it out first, knocking on their door one day, and when Devin opened the door, they got an armful of plant, and peered down over it to see Lynn's beaming face, before Lynn shoved them back into the apartment lightly and shut the door.

            "Well, go on, put it down— do you like it? I thought it was ironic, personally— a beanpole for the beanpole— clever, huh?" Lynn grinned, flopping down on Devin's couch even as Devin groaned, setting the plant down near the window, before they leaned against the wall, looking down at Lynn.

            "I guess you could call it clever— any particular reason you've gifted me this? And what type is it, anyways?"

            Lynn shifted slightly, still looking amused, "your other plant looked lonely, what can I say? And I figured I'd get you something that would always remind you of me, so it's a dwarf French  bean— a beanpole because you're way too tall, and it's a dwarf because I'm short — best of both worlds!"

            "I— you know what, fine. This isn't going to become a thing though, you got it?" Devin slouched against the wall, not even attempting to hide their pout from Lynn.

            Lynn nodded, trying not to laugh, before sitting up straight and launching into a fast paced account of hir day, and Devin relaxed, moving away from the wall to start up the coffee pot as they half listened, letting Lynn's words tumble over them.

            It totally becomes a thing.                                                            

            Next comes a terrarium, shoved at them by Chris, and they tightened their arms around it reflexively, glancing down at him with a frown, "I— what's this?"

            "What? Oh— my ex gave it to me, wouldn't take no for an answer when I tried to give it back, and I heard that you collected plants, so."

            He shifted, slightly defensive, and Devin sighed, trying to shift the terrarium so the glass container wouldn't slip out of their arms. "Right. Yeah, I'll take it, I guess— who told you that I was collecting plants again?"

            "Thanks so much— it has a hook on it, if you wanna hang it up— it might get light better that way, I dunno." He leaned up to peck their cheek, before taking a step back, and deftly avoiding their question, "right, I've got to go— bus to catch and all. Bye Devin, thanks again."

            They watched him leave, bemused, before glancing down at the glass case in their arms and sighing, and they take the terrarium back to the staff room, before heading to their shift.

            Their boss gifted them _Aeschynanthus radicans_ in the form of a hanging pot, and a few of their friends scrounged up enough money to buy a flowering maple, which got set up in the corner, as it took up the most space. For their birthday Devin is gifted an even mixture of books, and— much to their horror— plants, which they were too polite to turn down.

            "Maybe they'd get the picture that I don't need any more if I let them all die," Devin muttered as Lynn shut the door on the last guest.

            It startled a laugh out of Lynn, and hir locked the door quickly, before hurrying over to the couch and flopping down next to Devin to tug Devin's head into hir lap so hir can pet their hair soothingly.

             "Now now, don't lie to yourself Dev— you and I both know you wouldn't do anything like that; you hate disappointing people."

            Devin pouted, squirming closer as they closed their eyes, "yeah, well— I don't know why I suddenly became the weird plant person, but I'm not very happy about it."

            "Not yet, anyways— it'll _grow_ on you, though—" and Lynn broke off to giggle, as Devin tried to squirm up and away, giving Lynn a betrayed look.

            Lynn doesn't stop giggling, which allowed Devin the opportunity to wriggle away and stand, trying to keep some of their dignity intact.

            "Hey, don't _leaf_ me alone— get it Dev? Leaf? Leave? Seriously, don't leave, I'm sorry for ruining your _super serious angst_ about owning too many houseplants, promise."

            "Shut up, I do not _angst._ I just don't understand why everyone seems to want to cover my apartment in plants— what if I was allergic to pollen?" They tugged on their hair, more than aware they needed a trim and adding that to their ever growing to-do list, even as they looked at Lynn hopelessly.

            Lynn grabbed their hand and untangled it from their hair, shushing them softly as they tugged Devin back down onto the couch, "because your mother was right, for one— you do need more pretty things in your life— not including me, of course— and if you were allergic to pollen we wouldn't even be having this conversation, so just relax. If you really want, you can give them away, no one will be mad, just—"

            "Disappointed." Devin huffed, and slumped back against the couch's arm, "yeah, I know. I'm putting my foot down though, I don't need any more plants, I have too many— I don't want my apartment turning into a forest or anything like that, even if they are pretty."

            Lynn hummed, moving to get comfortable and dragging Devin's legs into hir lap as an almost blanket. "You see? You think the plants are pretty. Just say you don't have any more room, and I'll tell the others not to give you any more, it's that simple, stop stressing about it, okay?" Hir traced along Devin's tattoo, making them flinch away from the ticklish feeling before stilling again when Lynn stops. "Look, it's like your tattoos— you like 'em, and you can get more whenever you want, and no one will judge you— and if you don't like one anymore you could get rid of it. Your body is your temple, and the same holds true for your apartment."

            Devin nodded and dropped their head back against the couch's armrest, and looked at the plants with a frown, "you're right, now stop that, I'm supposed to be the wise one…” they trail off with a sigh, “I guess I'll keep them, and I can always get rid of them if they're too much of a hassle, or something."

            Lynn smiled encouragingly, before shoving at Devin's legs unceremoniously. "Glad you're over your little fit— now, you and I both know you have ice cream hidden away, go get it, I deserve a treat for being so awesome at advice."

            "And so humble, too," Devin teased, before rolling off the couch and standing up, to walk to the kitchen, weaving through the plants as they do.

            Even as they ate with Lynn, they took in the appearance of their apartment, with some amount of fondness; perhaps their mother was right, because they did prefer the plants to a sterile white apartment. The plants gave the place character, and it'd be dull without them— but it's still not Devin's thing— it's only a thing if they start purchasing their own plants, right?

            In the end, it _is_   their thing, but no one points it out to them— it'd ruin the point of it.


	2. Animal Marks on Skin

The marks had been on the skin of humans since before anyone ever remembered. Even the oldest written texts made note of the marks, describing where the people thought they had come from, but no conclusive data was ever found. Still though, the marks were there from birth, starting off on a human's dominant hand, no matter how big the animal would grow to be. They grew with their human, moving off of hands and roaming their human's skin freely, although they always went back to their human's hand when the time came to interact with another mark.

            The contact between the two human's skin allowed their marks to seemingly sniff at the other mark, and, through some cosmic force, decide the fate of their humans.

            The humans allowed their animal marks interact for another reason, too; the meeting of the marks allowed their humans to determine, based on the stereotypes that each type of mark had (different species of dog marks were common, and in general were thought of as loyal, if a bit dim, and cat marks were judged as loners who could be manipulative, and so on), what their human was going to be like.

            Of course, some people ignored their marks, deciding to take control of their own destinies and forge friendships or relationships regardless of what their marks decided, and, depending on the person, the relationships either continued, or ended unhappily. Because of this there were both written guidebooks and self-help seminars, to help those humans whose marks were against their relationships.

            For the most part, however, first meetings were normal—marks did not fight (no one knew the magic surrounding that, how the marks seemed to move onto the other person’s hand to bite and scratch at the other mark, until their people broke away), or show a hint of a romantic relationship, they simply got along with the other mark, letting its human determine their own relationships. 

            There was no rhyme or reasoning behind who got what mark, although some families preferred to keep with a chosen species, to keep their blood "pure;" never mind that there was no way of knowing what a child's mark would be when they were born. Most people, however, ignored that particular way of thinking, because if their mark didn't have a bias then why should they? It may have created some odd pairings of animal marks—a mongoose and a species of snake, for instance—but as long as the marks, and—more importantly, their humans—were happy, then everything was okay.

            Devin's father had the mark of a Grizzly bear, going along with his personality as a generally laid back family man, whereas Devin's mother had the mark of a Inca tern, a rather amusing looking bird that fit her showy personality to a tee. Both of their marks were natural, and well adjusted, and because of this both parents thought there was no need for a change.

            Devin, however, _did_ want, and perhaps even _needed_ a change in mark, to become comfortable in their own skin.

             They had felt that, much like with their pronouns, they needed something that better showed who they were as a person, and, after a lot of thought and research, chose a pampas deer, as they were relatively quiet, and non-confrontational, unlike their previous mark.

            The reason they were able to get their mark changed  was because it had recently become legal to do so, and had become less dangerous than before (there were horror stories told of changes that went wrong—marks becoming deformed, or didn't click with any other marks, instead choosing to hide out of the sight of prying eyes), even if the procedure was frowned upon by some. Thankfully no invasive questions were asked, about why they were getting their mark changed, and the procedure went well for them, no trace of their last mark left afterwards.

            A cough broke their remising, and they looked up, startled, at the face of a mousey looking person, who offered Devin a weak smile and proffered his hand, "Um, hello? My name is Tyler, and I'm guessing you're Devin? At least, that's what our mutual friends told me."

            He jerked his thumb behind him, and Devin glanced to where he was pointing and waved at their friends, who were sitting in a booth far enough away that they would have a semblance of privacy. When Devin looked back up at Tyler he was still holding out his hand, and they smiled sheepishly, reaching out to shake his hand carefully, and introduce themself.

            "Yeah, sorry, I'm Devin. It's, uh, nice to meet you Tyler." They glanced down at their joined hands, and bit their lip to stop themself from yelping in shock at the sight of his mark.

            He had also chosen to change his mark, although it was for different reasons than Devin, and he nearly always got the same reaction when people first saw it; it had never gotten less entertaining, either, and that's how he preferred it.

            He kept a tight hold on Devin's hand, because they instinctively jerked their hand back, as breaking off before their marks met would be _rude_ , and watched as his King cobra, and Devin's deer, met. It was always a tingly sort of feeling, when his mark moved partly off his skin, and, to make conversation, he asked, "I've never seen a deer like yours before—what type is it?"

            He was only half interested in the answer, eyes still glued to the way Devin's deer shied away from the cobra, before curiosity got the best of it and it moved forward to sniff delicately at his cobra, who stayed still, tongue flicking out to taste the air and capture the scent of the deer, much like it was doing.

            "It-it's a pampas deer? And-and I'm guessing yours is a king cobra?" Their voice wavered as they pronounced cobra, and he smiled, more than a bit pleased, before glancing down at their clasped hands again.

            When their marks moved away from each other, his slithering back up his arm and down his chest to rest somewhere near his stomach, and their's bounding away to hide somewhere near their clavicle, he broke their handshake and took a seat opposite Devin, "yes, it is. I've been told I don't seem like the type to have a venomous mark, but I paid more than enough for it, so, uh, they wouldn't have cared if I asked for a dinosaur, really."

            Devin blinked at him, processing the statement, and, not finding the proper words, kept quiet, allowing him to continue, "and I am sorry about grabbing your hand like that. It's just an instinct by now, because I'm used to people trying to pull away before our marks can interact. I didn't mean anything by it."

            It was a bad apology, but Devin nodded, tucking a stray curl behind their ear absentmindedly as their eyes stayed glued to his face, "I-well, I can understand that, I guess? Um, like I said, I'm Devin, and it's nice to meet you? I just- well, I wasn't expecting a _snake_ , that's all, I'm sorry for trying to pull away?"

            Tyler nodded and dug his nails into his palm to stop himself from smiling, instead coughing lightly, before changing the subject, "so, Devin. Our friends said—well, you know how they are, and they said you were genderfluid, is that correct? I was wondering what pronouns you'd rather I use, because, like— Liz has the necklace that shows which pronouns he wants on a particular day, and you don't have one, and I don't want to _presume_ , so."

            Devin had loosened up through his speech, and risked a smile at him, "that—thank you. Um, I use 'they/them' pronouns— Quinn had told me you use 'he/him,' is that correct?"

            He nodded, and finally smiled, which gave Devin the courage to glance down at his hand again, and ask, "so, you mentioned before— you picked the cobra? Do you mind me asking why you chose that specifically, or? I mean, I had my mark changed as well, but I don't want to presume we have similar reasons or anything like that. And uh, you can ask about mine too, if you want?"

            He looked thoughtful, eyes darting down to their hand as well, before he nodded slowly, "well, I guess it is only fair, since I mentioned it first."

            Devin glanced over his shoulder at their friends, and, when they notice that they're all accounted for, Devin slumps back in the booth, rubbing their mark through their shirt absentmindedly as they peer at him.

            "So, since you mentioned it first and all, d'you wanna talk first?"

            Tyler hummed thoughtfully, eyes unfocusing for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. "Well, I never liked what I had before," he said slowly, not looking at Devin. "The stereotypes, and all—I had a mouse, before, and, well, you know what they say about people with a mouse mark. Cowards, and then there's the whole—you know that old cartoon, _Speedy Gonzales_? It made people think I was lazy, and I wasn't going to amount to anything." He made a face, and then focused back on Devin.

            "So, yeah. I just didn't like what people thought of me, and so I wanted the _opposite_ of a mouse. Something _dangerous_ , that said 'don't mess with me,' and that's what I got. Besides, it was a bit cathartic—the mouse being eaten by the snake, a new era, and all." He paused for a moment, to smirk at Devin, before he ducked his head, continuing in a lower voice, "the only downside is how people react to King—that's its name, by the way, original, isn't it?—it's not like he's going to attack anyone randomly, so I don't really understand what the fuss is about."

                        Devin nodded slowly, digesting the thought, before smiling at him, half embarrassed, "well, my reasoning for getting the change was—I was the opposite, of you. I had a-a predator, before. And, like—it was a big role to fill, and I didn't like—I didn't like the expectations, that were put on me because of it, like with my mom..."

            Devin colored, and ducked their head, feeling as though they had given away too much information. They coughed, and changed the subject, "anyways, I felt the deer suited me much better, and no one expects me to be extroverted, or like, _scary_ , or anything now, so, I—yeah." Devin trailed off, mumbling the last few words embarrassedly as they avoided Tyler's eyes.

                        "Well, we're just two peas in a pod now aren't we? Maybe that's why our friends have brought us together? Frankly, I can't think of any other reason, no offense."

            "None taken. I mean—it's still a flimsy reason, in my opinion—"

            "Yes, it really is. Well, is there anything else we have in common?" He attempted a charming grin, and Devin hid a grimace behind their hand, before managing to flash him a weak smile.

            There was an awkward silence, and Devin hoped it wasn't easy to see how unsettled the whole meeting had made them—they didn't like feeling off balance, and from the start he had managed to keep them that way. They almost wished their marks _had_ fought at the beginning, if only because it meant then no one would have expected them to continue talking.

            Tyler coughed lightly, glancing at his wrist, as if he was wearing a watch— and then he flushed, fishing his phone out of his pocket, for a better excuse. "Well, this was fun— I think we've been here long enough that our friends can't complain, and all, so." He paused again, and cleared his throat, "our marks didn't really— well, there's no spark, or whatever, whether it be friendship or anything else, so I-I mean..." he trailed off, and Devin leaped at the opening.

            "I know what you mean. I mean, we met, and we've met our friends expectations for this meeting and— it was nice meeting you, I had a nice time." It sounded stale, and Tyler tugged on his sleeves, feeling the buzz under his skin as his mark woke up again, and moved  down his chest to wrap around his ankle, like it to was urging him to leave. Tyler also saw Devin's deer looking— no, _glaring_ — at him from where it was peering out from their shirt, and he wasn't in the mood to stay and feel judged for any longer.

            "Well goodbye then, it was nice to meet you. You have a nice day, and everything." He stood, and bobbed his head at them, before pivoting and walking as quickly as he could away from them.

            When his friends glanced up at him from their booth he grimaced, and shook his head, making a motion that said _I'll explain later_ , before he hurried out the door. He wasn't _fleeing_ , because he wasn't embarrassed; no, he was just late. Late for something that was definitely important, it was just that he couldn't think of it at that point in time. He'd think of something later, because he didn't have time at that point in time, because he was late.

            Devin finished their drink, which had gone unsatisfying cold, and slumped back against the booth, tugging their glasses off as they closed their eyes, setting their glasses aside to massage the bridge of their nose, grimacing as they felt a migraine building up.

            They nearly groaned when they heard one of their friends slip into the booth, and slipped their glasses back on to look at Andre, who grinned at them boyishly.

            "So," he drawled, kicking their leg lightly, "that looked like it went well."

            Devin sighed, subconsciously pouting at him as they gathered their thoughts, and go ready to recap the experience, slightly annoyed that Tyler had left them alone to face the brunt of their friends' questioning. 

Text Two, _Animal Marks on Skin_ , First Draft

            No one knew why or how they appeared, or even when they first appeared. It seemed that they had been there since the beginning, as the marks had been in art, in writing, in music, in word of mouth, in everything, since forever.

            Because of this, it was always disconcerting when someone looked like they were a blank— which was why, generally, when a person was first meeting someone, they let their marks interact first and foremost, via a handshake. It made for a good conversation starter, as well as allowing people to gauge what type of person the other was.

            This was due both to the stereotypes regarding each mark (dogs were generally thought of as simple but loyal, cats were lazy and cunning, and so on) as well as how the marks seemed to know what their humans were destined to be.

            It made for some interesting first meetings, to say the least.

            One such meeting was taking place in a small cafe, between two people shoved together by their friends in an attempt to get said individuals to talk with other people. They were both shut ins, by choice, and only really left for their jobs before going straight home, which annoyed their friends to no end; especially since they only went out when invited, never taking the initiative.

            This was because said marks weren't exactly natural. It was an avoided subject, how some people went against the natural order of things simply because they didn't like the way their marks looked, or the animal they were aligned with. There were horror stories told of the changes gone wrong, people being left with grotesque, half formed animals who refused to connect with others, hiding under clothes and shying away from their human's touch.

            This isn't a story of those types, however.

            Instead, their change went smoothly, and if someone didn't know better, they'd say the animals had been there since they were born, looked natural and behaved perfectly well— provided, of course, they liked the person they were getting to know.

            This story is about the two shut ins — Devin and Tyler were their names — and their first meeting. Devin was a tall, quiet sort of person, with the mark of a deer, which people thought was perfectly suited to them. They were at the cafe to meet Tyler, who, they noticed, was much the same. He was an unobtrusive sort of person, the kind that blended in perfectly in the background, and he preferred it that way.

            His mark, however, was anything but.

            His was a snake of all things, a king cobra that coiled itself around his chest, peeking its head out of his sleeve to the shrieks of those who weren't expecting it. It was darkly amusing to him, and this meeting with Devin was no different.

            Devin had been there since four, sitting in a corner booth and cradling a cup of coffee in their hands in an attempt to get warm. Their mark, a pampas deer, was asleep under their clothes, not because it could feel the cold, but because it was a recluse, rarely wanting to greet any other person's mark.

            Tyler arrived on time — four fifteen on the dot — and was ushered into the cafe by their mutual friends, who shoved him towards Devin's booth. He walked slowly towards Devin, glancing back at his friends from time to time, before finally standing in front of them.

            Devin looked up when he coughed, and smiled slightly, offering him a hand, "ah— I'm guessing you're Tyler? I'm Devin, it's nice to meet you?" Their voice had a questioning lilt to it, and he glanced down at their hand, and could see the head of their mark peering out at him from under their sleeve.

            It made him smile, and he offered them his hand, as he felt, rather than saw, his mark uncoil from where it lay wrapped around his waist, and stretch up his chest and then down his arm, to look at the other mark, its tongue flickering as it did so. "It's nice to meet you Devin," he said. "I'm Tyler."

            They took his hand, and glanced down at his mark, and he had to bite back a smile when they attempted to jerk their hand back— he wouldn't let them though. It was, after all, considered impolite to meet someone and not let their marks interact, after all.

            He kept a tight hold on Devin's hand and let his cobra move forward to get a better look at Devin's deer, which shied away, as if it believed the cobra would jump off of his hand, and onto Devin's, to attack.

            Tyler doubted it would attack— it hadn't since he got it, but their deer seemed moments away from fleeing, which he got a kick out of. Devin let out a tiny hiss of pain, before biting their lip, and their deer seemed to glare, of all things, at his King.

            "Oh," he said, only half interested in the answer, "I've never seen a mark like yours before; what type of deer is it?"

            Devin quit trying to pull away, already resigned to let their marks socialize, "a pampas deer— and yours is a cobra, I presume?" Their voice wavered slightly when they pronounced cobra, and he smiled, pleased, glancing down at their clasped hands again.

            "Yeah, it's actually a king cobra. It, uh— I've been told I don't seem like the venomous type, but I paid enough, so they uh, when I went in, they didn't really care what I wanted."

            Their eyes were still glued to the marks, and he could see when the deer finally gathered courage, going against its stereotype, and leaned forward to investigate as the cobra stayed still, watching carefully. When the deer realized there had been no danger to begin with, it seemingly relaxed, and they intertwined for a moment, before the cobra became restless, and slithered away, back up his sleeve and down his chest, presumably, to take a nap. The deer stilled for a moment, seemingly looking up at Tyler with reproachful eyes, and he felt, distinctly, like even if his mark was up to standard, that Devin's deer found him lacking.

            It was a short moment though, and then it flounced off, and Tyler finally let go of Devin's hand, and took a seat across from them.

            "Sorry about that— I guess I'm just used to people jerking away before they can properly judge me. I didn't mean anything by it."

            It was a bad apology, but Devin inclines their head, before tucking a stray curl behind their ear and nodding. "That's— understandable, I suppose. I— like I said, I'm Devin, and you said you were Tyler, so. I just wasn't expecting a— a snake, I guess. Um, so— I— what pronouns, do you use? I go by they/them, but I wasn't sure— I wanted to ask you, before presuming anything."

            Tyler gives them a slow smile, before settling back in the booth, "that's awfully nice of you— I use he/him, thanks for asking."

            Devin manages a smile, and glances down at their hand, and mustering up the courage to ask. "So— you mentioned, before, that you picked the— the cobra? Is there any reason why? I mean, we just met, but— d'you mind if I ask what you had before? I'll uh— we have the change in common, I think, so I mean— I'll tell you about mine, before I changed it, and you can tell me about yours, if you like?"

            He thinks about it for a moment, eyes darting to their hand again, and he smiles slowly, "right then. We can do that, if you like. It's only fair, after I mentioned it, and all."

            Devin risks a smile as well, attempting to glance over his head at their friends, just in case, and then slumps down in their seat, rubbing their arm through their sleeve absentmindedly as they peer at him.

            "So, since you mentioned it first, d'you want to go first?"

            Tyler hummed thoughtfully under his breath, eyes unfocused as he gathered his thoughts. "Well, I had never liked what I had before," he said slowly, still looking past Devin. "The stereotypes, and all— I had a mouse, before, and, well, y'know what they say about mice. Cowards, and there's the whole— you know the old cartoon Speedy Gonzales? Made people think I was lazy, and wasn't gonna amount to anything." He made a face, and finally focused back on Devin.

            "So, yeah. I didn't like it, and I wanted like, the opposite of a mouse— something dangerous, that said don't mess with me, and that's what I got." He pauses for a moment, to smirks at Devin, and then ducks his head, continuing in a lower voice, "only downside is how people react— it's not like King— that's what I named it, by the way, original, isn't it? — can actually bite anything, so I don't see what the fuss is about, but there you go."

            Devin nods slowly, digesting the thought, before smiling at him, half embarrassed, "well, my reasoning for getting the change was— I was the opposite, of you. I had a— a predator, beforehand. And, like— it was a big role to fill, and I didn't like— I didn't like the expectations, that were put on me because of it, like with my mom—"

            Devin colored, and ducked their head, feeling as though they had given away too much information. They coughed, and changed the subject, "anyways, I felt the deer suited me much better, and no one expects me to be extroverted, or like, scary, or anything now, so, I— yeah." Devin trailed off, mumbling the last few words embarrassedly as they avoided Tyler's eyes.

            "Well, we're just two peas in a pod now aren't we? Maybe that's why our friends have brought us together? Frankly, I can't think of any other reason, no offense."

            "None taken. I mean— it's still a flimsy reason, in my opinion—"

            "Yeah, it really is. Well, is there anything else we have in common?" He attempted a charming grin, and Devin hid a grimace behind their hand, before managing to flash him a weak smile.

            There was an awkward silence, and Devin hoped it wasn't easy to see how unsettled the whole meeting had made them— they didn't like feeling off balance, and from the start he had managed to keep them that way. They almost wished their marks had fought at the beginning, if only because it meant then no one would have expected them to continue talking.

            Tyler coughed lightly, glancing at his wrist, as if he was wearing a watch— and then he flushed, fishing his phone out of his pocket, for a better excuse. "Well, this was fun— I think we've been here long enough that our friends can't complain, and all, so." He paused again, and cleared his throat, "our marks didn't really— well, there's no spark, or whatever, whether it be friendship or anything else, so I-I mean—" he trailed off, and Devin leaped at the opening.

            "I know what you mean. I mean, we met, and we've met our friends expectations for this meeting and— it was nice meeting you, I had a nice time." It sounded stale, and Tyler tugged on his sleeves, feeling the buzz under his skin as his mark woke up again, and moved to wrap around his ankle, like it to was urging him to leave. Tyler could also see Devin's deer looking— no, glaring— at him from where it's head lay against their collarbone, and he wasn't in the mood to stay and feel judged for any longer.

            "Well bye then, it was nice to meet you. You have a nice day, and everything." He stood, and bobbed his head at them, before pivoting and walking as quickly as he could away from them.

            When his friends glanced up at him from their booth, he grimaced, and shook his head, making a motion that meant I'll explain later, before he hurried out the door— he wasn't fleeing, per say; he was just— late for something. He'd figure out what he was late for later, but for now, he just knew that he was late.

            Devin finished their drink, which had gone cold, and relaxed back against the booth, tugging their glasses off as they closed their eyes, and massaged the bridge of their nose, to stave off a migraine.

            They nearly groaned when they felt, rather than saw, someone else slip into the booth across from them, before they slipped their glasses onto their face, and looked up at their friend who had sat down, and braced them self for the grilling they were sure to receive because Tyler had ran off. 


End file.
